“Found Poetry (in the Titles and Some Lines From The Poet’s Market)” became a 400 page monster poem.  It was designed to be read really rapidly as a fast flow of words in normal sequencing.  See these actresses reciting “Found Poetry” as auditions for the role of Q.Z. Blaze in the movie Ploything. here and here and here and here.  The 400 page monster poem was also designed as a bunch of individual comments/poems on citations from The Writer’s Market.  Some of these little poems were written as direct parodies of the poems and poetry lines cited by publishers of poetry magazines as the types of poetry they “liked” and wanted to publish. The number beside the small parody poem (like 94) indicates the year that the poetry sample appeared in the Poet’s Market,.  (These numbers weren’t meant to be read when reciting the fast paced long format of the poem)  The capital lettered lines, which move alphabetically to name the magazines that the little parodies mock, and add connecting words, can also be read.  So, Found Poetry is a long long poem ment to be read fast.  It is a series of short parody poems.  It is also a long poem in all caps connecting the alphabetized Titles of poetry publications.

 

So, this is the layout and first few pages of  Found Poetry meant to be read out loud and fast and all in order.

AARDVARK                                                        (94)

       I AM

       I AM.

       I AM

       CALLED THIS

       TO BE FIRST

         In line for a kiss,                                   94

         Beneath the moonlit touch

         Of a hooker’s hand ‑‑

         Of course she’s a loved one ‑‑

         Loved one, loved all:

         French kisses on me, in her

         Favorite women’s room

       IN THE

   ABATTOIR ‑‑                                                 (92)

       SLAUGHTERHOUSE:

       PICTURE THAT, POOR POETS;

       ARE YOU REALLY LIKE

       MONKS AND NUNS IN AN

ABBEY                                                           (94)

       OR SURE, IF OUTER SPACE

       CAME TO VISIT, THAT

ABIKO                                                           (94)

       EXISTS,

       THAT YOU ARE

ABORIGINAL,                                                     (94)

       UNTAINTED DNA?

       WHERE DID IT COME FROM,

       THE DOUBLE HELIX, DROPPED

       INTO THE OOZE OF AMMONIA

       AND PRIMORDIAL COAGULATION?

       DOES CARBON EXISTENCE MAKE US

       DESCENDENTS OF GRAVITY’S WONDERS,

       DANGLING OUR TOES, SITTING, NOMINALLY

ABOVE THE BRIDGE?                                               (94)

           When the image, not imagination,                    91‑93

           When the warp of the words, not ideas

           When the hidden rhyme, not the timed

           Impact

           Of what is being expressed

           And colors, black day, orange mailbox,

           Green waiting, salmon resistance,

           Try to tell the formula of it,

           The soul, seldom done justice, is cheapened

         Is a sleazy breeze                                    94

         Escaping the skull’s horizon

       AND WHAT WORD IS THIS?

ABRAXAS, A GHOST PONY WORD,                                     (94)

       NOT IN CHEAP DICTIONARIES

       NOR THE YELLOWED PAGES OF HER WORLD BOOK ENCYCLOPEDIA,

       DISPLAYS THE DEPTH OF MY IGNORANCE, TUMBLING

                      She                                     94

                  Disappeared

               Like a dot on the

            Page‑white, snow‑wisped

           Mountain peak, scrub‑brush

          Hiding   her  like   pronouns.

The most right oriented bits are separatable poems/parodies that are a response to poetry cited as examples of what the publishers want  which can, theoretically stand on their own as separate poems.  The numbers to the right (not meant to be read) are a reference to what year the poetry cited/parodied showed up in The Poet’s Market.

         In line for a kiss,                                   94

         Beneath the moonlit touch

         Of a hooker’s hand ‑‑

         Of course she’s a loved one ‑‑

         Loved one, loved all:

         French kisses on me, in her

         Favorite women’s room

 

 

 

 

 

           When the image, not imagination,                    91‑93

           When the warp of the words, not ideas

           When the hidden rhyme, not the timed

           Impact

           Of what is being expressed

           And colors, black day, orange mailbox,

           Green waiting, salmon resistance,

           Try to tell the formula of it,

           The soul, seldom done justice, is cheapened

         Is a sleazy breeze                                    94

         Escaping the skull’s horizon

      

 

 

 

                        She                                     94

                  Disappeared

               Like a dot on the

            Page‑white, snow‑wisped

           Mountain peak, scrub‑brush

          Hiding   her  like   pronouns.

 

 

This is how the all caps portion would look as a stand-alone poem.  The left oriented words in alphabetical order are the names of magazines.  The number (not meant to be read) is a reference for what year of the Poet’s Market is was.

AARDVARK                                                        (94)

       I AM

       I AM.

       I AM

       CALLED THIS

       TO BE FIRST

       IN THE

   ABATTOIR ‑‑                                                 (92)

       SLAUGHTERHOUSE:

       PICTURE THAT, POOR POETS;

       ARE YOU REALLY LIKE

       MONKS AND NUNS IN AN

ABBEY                                                           (94)

       OR SURE, IF OUTER SPACE

       CAME TO VISIT, THAT

ABIKO                                                           (94)

       EXISTS,

       THAT YOU ARE

ABORIGINAL,                                                     (94)

       UNTAINTED DNA?

       WHERE DID IT COME FROM,

       THE DOUBLE HELIX, DROPPED

       INTO THE OOZE OF AMMONIA

       AND PRIMORDIAL COAGULATION?

       DOES CARBON EXISTENCE MAKE US

       DESCENDENTS OF GRAVITY’S WONDERS,

       DANGLING OUR TOES, SITTING, NOMINALLY

ABOVE THE BRIDGE?                                               (94)

       AND WHAT WORD IS THIS?

ABRAXAS, A GHOST PONY WORD,                                     (94)

       NOT IN CHEAP DICTIONARIES

       NOR THE YELLOWED PAGES OF HER WORLD BOOK ENCYCLOPEDIA,

       DISPLAYS THE DEPTH OF MY IGNORANCE, TUMBLING